Nobody's Lady

by Annabelle Anders

  And then she realized where she’d heard the name before! Lord Hawthorn. The Earl of Hawthorn was the man who’d had hijacked Michael’s carriage!

  This was not about her at all.

  Lord Hawthorn was Michael’s political enemy. He would do anything to discredit him. He’d proven this already, earlier this spring. She’d found him familiar because he had been near the gazebo when Michael had kissed her. She’d nearly run headlong into him when she’d fled. What did he know? What was he up to?

  Lilly’s eyes darted around the ballroom. Michael was a mere ten feet away from her. But what could he do to help her? He danced with his betrothed. Unlike Lord Hawthorn he took long confident steps, steering his partner adeptly around the other couples. Lady Natalie, however, caught Lilly’s eyes. There must have been something alarming in her expression for, after a moment of quick conversation with her partner, Michael looked over at her as well. His eyes narrowed.

  And then the earl spoke to Lilly again. “You are a more interesting lady than you would have people believe. A lady with a past always is.”

  This was not good. No, not good at all.

  “Especially a past as incestuous as yours.”

  At these words, Lilly’s head snapped back with a jerk. “I find your insinuations insulting, my lord. I’d advise you to change the subject now. You are being quite improper.” She spoke sternly.

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He shook his head in mock solemnity. “What would Mr. Joseph Spencer think if he were to discover the lady he courted was from a family who believed themselves above the law? Your marriage to your brother-in-law was illegal. Worse than that, sinfully incestuous!” That word again. Lilly held herself rigid and attempted to pull away from the earl’s grasp, but those spiderlike fingers had suddenly become vicelike. He pulled her closer so that his face was very close. “I suggest you tell the Duke of Cortland, your lover, that if he does not desist with his amendment, I will make things very difficult for you. Very difficult indeed.”

  Whereupon, one booted foot stomped down upon her slippered toes. He released her at the same time. It was done easily, Lilly realized later. It merely looked like an embarrassing accident.

  But in that instant, there was only pain.

  Her slippers were satin, and the heel of a boot was hard, with sharp edges. As agonizing pain shot through her foot, she was also suddenly free of his constricting grasp. Lilly’s own attempt to pull herself away from him added to her momentum, leading her to fall quite humiliatingly onto the unforgiving parquet floor. Wishing she could disappear to anywhere but there, she lay stunned, reeling from pain, embarrassment, and most of all, the earl’s words. Other nearby dancers looked on in curiosity. The earl tsked and stood nearby, feigning concern. “Oh, my dear, I was under the impression you knew how to waltz!”

  It took all of ten seconds before two other gentlemen, who had released their own partners, crouched down beside her. One of them was Viscount Danbury, whom she had come to know quite well that long-ago spring.

  The other gentleman was Michael. They were joined by several others, and Hawthorn backed away slowly. “Oh, I say,” twittered the bystanders surrounding her.

  Stunned, Lilly’s mind reeled as the earl’s words replayed themselves over and over in her mind. Incestuous. Above the law. The Duke of Cortland—your lover.

  It took a moment for her to recover her bearings enough to actually hear Michael and Danbury speaking to her. “Take deep breaths, Lilly.” Michael’s voice was closest. With one arm behind her back, he helped her sit up.

  “Are you injured, my lady?” Danbury asked, looking around and then adding, “What the devil happened?” He spoke to nobody in particular.

  “She fell, must have tripped,” an unfamiliar voice offered.

  Lilly tried to sit up on her own, but Michael refused to release her. “I’ve got you, love,” he whispered in her ear, and then before she could move he had scooped her into his arms and was carrying her across the dance floor to the seating area where her aunt Eleanor looked on in concern. Carefully placing Lilly on one of the sofas, he crouched down before her with a deep frown furrowing his brows.

  Hawthorn had accused Michael of being her lover! Surely seeing him address her with such attentiveness would reinforce the man’s claim. She needed Michael to be far away from her. He had called her love. He’d said those exact words to her once before, at the waterfall. He had been her lover once, but this was no longer true. She needed him to go away! Now!

  The caring in his eyes was nearly her undoing.

  She pushed his hands away and looked at him with as much disdain as she could muster. “I am fine, Your Grace. I need no further assistance,” and then, “Thank you.” The look in his eyes changed from concern to confusion. She wished he were not so close to her. She wished she could look anywhere else but at him. His presence overwhelmed her.

  “Lilly?” he said softly.

  “Thank you, Your Grace.” She spoke harshly. And then she turned her head to the side so she would not see his eyes for even a second longer.

  Lord Hawthorn stood across the room, leaning against a wall, appearing far too interested in the sight of Michael and Lilly together. Incestuous, illegal, your lover…She had known it could not become public knowledge that she’d married Rose’s widower but had not considered the reality of what the ramifications would be if the truth were to be made public. Could it truly ruin Glenda’s chances of making an advantageous match? She was not certain, but worried that ladies had, indeed, been ruined by lesser transgressions.

  And she could never ask Michael to give up on his amendment. She would not!

  “Leave me be,” she ground out. Hawthorn was watching!

  Chapter Eighteen

  An Enemy

  Her eyes flashed such disdain, Michael nearly flinched. And she was telling him to leave her alone. She might just as well have slapped him across the face, so surprised he was by the venom she spewed in his direction. He had no choice but to rise to his feet and step back.

  Taking in her stiff posture, he had to reconsider that perhaps she did blame him for everything. As she well should.

  At the Willoughby ball, their parting had been wrenching. After what he’d learned, he would not—he could not—blame her for holding him in contempt. And yet…that was not her way.

  He knew this about her. He would never forgive himself for the situation she’d been forced into—the mere thought of it stole his breath—but he’d believed in his heart she’d somehow forgiven him. He had not thought she hated him.

  And when he’d carried her from the floor, she’d not resisted. It was the same as it always had been, when they touched, as though their hearts beat in unison—a coming home—of sorts. Had he imagined it?

  And then he glanced in the direction of her gaze. Lord Hawthorn watched them intently, with a spiteful look in his eyes.

  Lilly had been dancing with the blasted man when she’d suddenly fallen down in the middle of the ballroom floor. What had happened? What had Hawthorn said to her? What had he done?

  Knowing he would not get any answers from Lilly right now, he bowed and then took his leave. She was under the watchful eye of her aunt now. She would be well cared for. But did she need protection as well?

  Catching Danbury’s eye, with a quick tilt of his head, he gestured for his friend to follow him so they could speak privately. Slipping into an empty room, just off the foyer, Michael made certain it was vacant and then shut the door firmly.

  “What the devil was all that about?” Danbury asked him. “And why was she so out of sorts with you for assisting her? You realize who partnered her, don’t you?”

  At his friend’s questions, Michael nodded. “Hawthorn.” And then shoving his hands into his pockets, he turned his head in the direction from where they had come. After a moment or two of contemplation, he shook it, perplexed. “Hawthorn said something to upset Lilly. He frightened her somehow.”

  “Lilly?” Danbury asked wi
th raised brows. “Not Lady Beauchamp? Are the two of you reconciled then? What of Lady Natalie?”

  Brushing off the notion, Michael made an irritated grimace. “Have a care, Danbury. She is an old friend for whom I am concerned.” Then changing the direction of Danbury’s thoughts, said, “However, I need a favor, if you will.”

  Hugh Chesterton took a few steps toward the settee and dropped into it. Leaning back, he raised one leg up and rested his ankle upon his other knee. “I am at your disposal.”

  Michael rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I am concerned for Lilly’s safety. Unfortunately, she is intolerant of my company tonight. Will you attach yourself to her, and her aunt, for the remainder of the evening? And then see they arrive home safely? I realize this may pose something of an inconvenience. I would do it myself if I could, but…”

  “Oh, I understand. Very unusual behavior for the lady, if I say so myself.” Danbury placed both feet back on the floor and stood up. Brushing at his trousers to remove an imagined piece of lint, he looked back up at Michael. “Just an old friend, eh? A very beautiful widow, though.” A gleam in Hugh’s eyes disquieted Michael.

  But Danbury knew how Michael had once felt about Lilly. Surely, he would not do anything to jeopardize their friendship, such as poaching on an old flame? “Perhaps you could encourage her to tell you all that Hawthorn said. Use some of that charm for which you are so famous.”

  “Absolutely.” Danbury winked. Walking toward the door, his friend stopped a moment before turning to look back at Michael once again. “I’ll see you in the morning then? Rotten Row at sunup?”

  Michael nodded, and the viscount exited and closed the door. What the hell was Hawthorn up to now? The image of Lilly, fallen to the floor in pain came unwittingly to mind. Michael had been dancing with Lady Natalie, trying not to watch Lilly from across the room. He’d been doing a lot of that lately…trying not to watch Lilly.

  Lady Natalie had been watching her too. And she had told him Lilly looked upset. Alarms had gone off inside of him for he’d known with whom she was dancing, but he’d thought himself paranoid. Lilly had seemed standoffish with the earl, but nothing more than that.

  But when he’d glanced over at Lady Natalie’s comment, there had been shock, revulsion, in Lilly’s eyes. And then, yes, she had looked frightened just before she’d fallen. And the more he recollected the moment, the more certain he became that she had been attempting to pull away from the bastard. And then she’d fallen.

  Wild horses could not have stopped him from rushing to her side. He was beginning to believe it would always be this way.

  Ah, she had looked so beautiful this evening. She’d sparkled again just as she had that first season.

  She had not dressed as a chaperone. She was dressed as a beautiful woman, one who had had every intention of enjoying herself.

  Michael dropped wearily into the spot Danbury had vacated. Placing both feet firmly on the floor, he leaned forward and rested his elbows upon his knees. What the hell was he going to do about her?

  ****

  With Lord Hawthorn’s threats echoing in her thoughts, Lilly fought to keep panic from reducing her to tears.

  Glenda wasn’t an affectionate girl, or respectful even, but Lilly and Aunt Eleanor were the only family she had left. Glenda needed her.

  And in a strange way, Lilly needed Glenda. And she needed for Glenda to find the happiness that had eluded herself. Lilly must make certain Glenda found a good match, somebody kind.

  Coming to London, Lilly had hoped Glenda might find somebody with a sweet temperament and a gentle spirit—a man who cared for her but also had the wherewithal to care for her. And Joseph Spencer seemed to fit this requirement to a T. If scandal were to attach itself to Glenda, merely by her association with Lilly, would Mr. Spencer remove his attentions? And if these unfortunate circumstances occurred, could that eliminate other opportunities her niece might be presented for making a good match? If so, it would be Lilly’s fault!

  Not because she’d married the baron in the first place. She would not berate herself for that. But rather that she had discussed her past in a very public place where any person might overhear. She ought to have protected such information dearly. Overcome by her emotions where Michael was concerned, she had been careless.

  Having invested most of their funds on this season for Glenda, it could not all be for naught! She must prevent Lord Hawthorn from carrying out his threats. But how?

  As the orchestra took a break and the murmuring of the guests broke into her consciousness, Lilly realized she had been watching the entrance to the ballroom where Michael and Lord Danbury had exited.

  And now Lord Danbury was returning. Alone.

  A roguish smile crossed his face when he caught her gaze, and he exaggerated his already confident swagger. Although known about town as something of a rake, he’d never said or done anything improper while in her company. He was similar to Michael in stature and coloring, but their likenesses ended there. Whereas Michael’s eyes shimmered blue, Danbury’s were nearly black. Lilly loved the creases she’d noticed recently around Michael’s eyes. They hadn’t been there before. They must have formed from smiling and spending time out of doors.

  Danbury’s dark eyes contrasted vividly against his paler skin. While Michael had been away at war, Danbury had been finishing his education at Oxford. Their differences, perhaps, were part of what strengthened their friendship.

  Danbury was a very attractive man, but she’d never had any romantic interest in him whatsoever. She’d always thought Penelope carried a bit of a torch for him, however.

  Smiling up at him, she would have chuckled at his wink, had she not been so upset by the evening’s events. She’d developed a rather sisterly affection for the scamp.

  Placing one foot forward, the viscount executed a courtly bow as though she were the queen herself.

  “Sit down, my lord. Your charm has no power over me.” Lilly gestured with a wave of her hand. Someone had fetched her a cushioned ottoman to rest her ankle upon, and her aunt had gone in search of something cold to put on the injury. Lilly hoped it wasn’t a sprain, but she could see it swelling already. She was finally making progress in the garden and knew it would be neglected if she could not maintain it.

  Danbury eyed the offending appendage with a wry smile. “Has someone gone after a cold compress?” His friendly demeanor was reassuring, considering she’d just ordered Michael away from her.

  “Aunt Eleanor has,” she said cautiously. Perusing the seats around her, she ascertained that Lord Hawthorn had abandoned his watch. Many of the guests were now milling toward the dining hall. “Thank you—for your assistance earlier.” Looking down at her hands, she felt sheepish. She had been very rude to Michael. What must Lord Danbury think of her? But she’d had no choice!

  “What did Hawthorn say to you?” He did not mince his words with trite conversation. “A vile creature. I can’t imagine why you would dance with him.”

  Lilly stared thoughtfully at the handsome features of the man sitting beside her. She could not argue Lord Danbury’s assessment of the Earl of Hawthorn. “A lady must accept unless she has already promised a set. If she wishes to stand up later in the evening, that is.” And then, “Did His Grace send you to interrogate me? Because it’s none of his business. And it’s none of yours either.” Why was she snapping at Danbury? What had he done to deserve this?

  She felt frightened. That was why.

  “Hawthorn has threatened you then. Cortland was right.” Danbury suddenly didn’t look harmless and good-natured anymore. “What exactly did he say?”

  What had Michael told his friend? She could not take any chances. Especially not here. She’d voiced personal matters in a public setting before and look where that had gotten her. “I cannot discuss that with you, my lord.” And then more softly, she added, “But I would speak with His Grace about it in a more private setting. If you would relay that to him.”

  Nodding slowly,
Lord Danbury remained sitting beside her. “Of course.” And then replacing his earlier mask of pleasant enjoyment, he smiled at her dazzlingly. “Tell me, lovely lady, what have you been up to this past decade?”

  Lilly was to experience the effect of the full arsenal of Danbury charm.

  And for the rest of the evening, it seemed, except to fetch her a plate of food, the viscount did not leave her side. He even followed her aunt’s carriage on horseback, all the way back to the town house on Curzon Street. As one of her aunt’s footmen let down the step, Danbury reined his horse to a quick stop, tipped his hat, and then finally left them to their own devices.

  “Quite an admirer, you have.” Aunt Eleanor spoke matter-of-factly as they handed their cloaks to Jarvis. “He didn’t leave your side for a moment.”

  Lilly laughed, albeit uneasily, and then kissed her aunt good night. She was suddenly very, very tired. And as much as she loved her aunt, she did not wish to stay up and chat. “He was being chivalrous. The debutantes love that…” Then on her swollen and tender ankle, she hobbled up the stairs without further assistance. It did not seem to be sprained, thank the heavens. She could likely work in the garden tomorrow after all. She would most certainly need the peace it usually afforded her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Between a Rock and a Very Hard Place

  A fog hung low over Hyde Park early the next morning as Michael and Danbury simultaneously pulled back on their reins and slowed to a walk. They had given the horses a free head early on, and it was time to let them cool down. Both men had meetings scheduled around parliamentary duties most days and so had set aside one day a week to ride together while in the city. The early hours left the Row to themselves, and the air was usually crisp and fresh.

  On this morning, however, they were to be joined by another.

  Michael recognized the Earl of Ravensdale, his affianced’s father, even from a distance, as the esteemed gentleman approached upon his own steed.